So here I am watching T.V and all of a sudden I find myself turning on the comp and just writing. There is usually lots of things that run through my mind and I tend to be pretty good with writing it all down as far as a pad at hand (there is one in every bag I carry). But yet when I get inspired it rarely goes back to the ones I have on the pads.
I am sitting here thinking of this year that has left. The many things that I have accomplished and how a community has embraced me. Me, the kid that when I was growing up was always an outcast. The loud kid at a time that there was no such thing as A.D.H.D. The kid that was going to be placed in Special Ed all because the teacher thought that at my ripe old age of 14 I just couldn’t know that I was gay. That there was something absolutely wrong with me and behavior modification was necessary if I was to come out a good kid. Remembering how my mother told the guidance counselor, in her thick Spanish accent to go fuck herself that there was nothing wrong with me. I look back at this kid, the once active addict roaming the streets in utter pain carrying the demons of those that inflicted it on me. Me never knowing that there was an amazing sense of power when I just let it all go and understand that it is not my fault and it never was. The me, that never in a thousand years would picture myself on a stage and actually doing shows about my life and being able to find the funny in all its ugliness.
I remember telling my best friend before he passed away that one day I was going to print a book and even though it’s self-published it is an accomplishment that I did. I sat with pen and paper (because I still need to do it old school) and just sat and revisited these enormous ugly moments and submerged myself and owned this shit so it no longer haunts me. That I actually facilitated workshops on how to perform personal pieces and saw each of these individuals shine in the truth. This year has also been one where I came to understand that I am but a small fragment in this huge piece of the puzzle called life. I learned that I don’t have to be scared anymore. That it is OK to stumble and rise up stronger. This year I forgave and hurt some more and forgave myself the most after all was said and done. I learned betrayal at it’s ugly core and came out alive. Yes scathed as all hell but alright. It made me so much more stronger.
Not a day goes by that each hurt and pain and scar and trip and fall reminds me of my sister that has been dead for the last 32 years. I am able to recall so many of the conversations that she would have with me and it is now that it all makes sense. She made sure all along that I remained strong, she made sure she warned me of the world and how it will spit you out but you stand firm and continue to move forward no matter what. It was this year that I even embraced more the love and strength I have in being a gay latino man (as if I can be any more proud being gay). I found out that I am a work horse and that I take pride in being able to provide and support my family. Taking care of both my parents has proven quite the task but let me tell you no matter what abuse and neglect they put me through they are my parents and as long as I have a roof over my head they shall never need.
Besides working a very regular blue collar job this was the year that I actually was constantly doing my craft. Am I exhausted? Yes. But what a great wonderful fulfilling exhausted it is. Do I come home sometimes in pain from the loong days involving rehearsals? Yes I do but I wouldn’t have it any other way. This is the life I was meant to live. To be doing what I truly feel I was meant to do on this earth and that is write and perform. Grace stages and make people laugh. Live my lie to the best me I can be